But Hen was staring at the girl, a queer expression in his black eyes.
"Do something!" she cried, springing to her feet. "Do something!"
The lank physicist swallowed. He took a deep breath. "You asked for it," he breathed, "but, boy, I'm going to feel silly if I'm wrong!"
Then he hit the girl square on the point of her chin with all the bone and gristle of his six-foot frame behind the blow.
Sofi's head snapped back. She collapsed limply in his arms.
Hen laid her out on the floor, leaped for the communicator, and flipped it on.
The robots were still training the torch on the wall of the igloo, but there was an aimlessness about their movements as if their purpose was gone.
"R-7!" he called. "R-7!"
"Here, father."
"Shut off the torch!"